


a clear color (and a sixth sense)

by zhujungjungting (runswithchopsticks)



Category: Produce 101 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, fate is a real funny thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 11:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runswithchopsticks/pseuds/zhujungjungting
Summary: soulmates!au.In which paint sometimes randomly appears on Euiwoong's face and Hyeongseop is an artist.





	a clear color (and a sixth sense)

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! thank you so much for clicking on this fic. i hope you enjoy your read!
> 
> music: shinee - view, kard - hola hola (this song gives such good vibes for the story ugh)

_start._

* * *

"Oh my god, Euiwoong, your face is--"

"What is it now?" Euiwoong sighs, and he puts his palm on his left cheek in an attempt to shield it from the wandering eyes of any of his classmates. "Let me guess. Red? Purple? Maybe blue today?"

Haknyeon hurriedly shakes his head. "No, man, you need to go to the washroom now," he says, tugging on Euiwoong's jacket sleeve. "Your face looks like it's cracking. Like you're made of porcelain or something. And--" Haknyeon pauses, his mouth agape. "They're growing. The cracks are growing." He leans in, staring closely at Euiwoong's face, before lifting up a finger and poking at his cheek. "Wow, you're still flesh."

Euiwoong slaps his hand away. "Don't poke me, I'm going," he says, before pushing back his chair and half walking, half jogging out of the classroom and down the hallway towards the washroom.

When he opens the door, he says, "Hello?" When there's no answer, he breathes a sigh of relief, walking inside and coming to stand in front of the mirror sitting atop the sinks.

And then when the sight of his reflection hits his eyes, he clamps a hand over his mouth in shock.

Sure enough, there are cracks, as Haknyeon said. The kind you'd see in a vase that's about to split in half, gray and rough and sharp, jagged at some edges while linear in others. They start at his jaw and his temple, running towards the middle of his face before stopping right over his nose and lips.

For a second Euiwoong believes he's indeed made out of porcelain and that his face is about to break apart. But he physically feels normal and completely intact -- the disparity between the expected sensation of falling apart and the actual reality of nothing happening throws him for a loop.

He leans in closer until his face is barely a few centimeters away from the mirror.

And sure enough, as he expected, the cracks aren't real. From afar, they look chillingly realistic. But up close, he can see the texture of the paint, the miniscule streaking of color, and the barely there stroke marks of the brush.

"Whoever this is, they must be crazy," Euiwoong growls at no one in particular. He turns on the sink, filling his cupped hands with water before leaning down and splashing his face. He rubs vigorously at his cheeks until both the skin on his face and his fingertips are red and raw. Paint can sometimes be an ass to take off, he's come to realize, but for some reason today's paint seems to be more difficult to remove.

When he appears back into his classroom, Haknyeon bursts out in raucous laughter. "Christ, did you take a shower with your clothes on?" he asks.

"Oh, shut up," Euiwoong replies. He heaves a heavy sigh when he sits back down, running a hand through the sopping strands near his hairline. "I had to scrub my face into oblivion to get the paint off."

"Oh, so it was paint, thank goodness," Haknyeon breathes, placing a hand over his chest. Euiwoong is not sure if he is serious or just sarcastic.

"I wonder what's going on with them today," Euiwoong mutters. He turns, and looks out the window next to him. There's the school's baseball field, their red pit, and the parking lot. All surrounded by fencing that's been ripped and broken in places, their wires sticking out and their nets frayed. There's no movement out there, no life.

"Why don't you ask?" Haknyeon replies.

"We tried that once, remember?" Euiwoong says, turning back. "No reply."

"Well, you can't keep on having to run to the washroom and clean your face all the time. The teacher is already really suspicious," Haknyeon notes. "It would be real useful to tell this person that you can't have them painting on your-- or their-- or whatever, both of your faces during class."

"Well, do you have any suggestions?" Euiwoong asks. He snorts.

He's done a lot of thinking, about who might be the creator of the art that happens on his face at least once every week or two -- who might be his soulmate. But his thoughts don't match anyone he knows, so he's given up on thinking about it and just accepted that he'll have to let fate decide when they'll meet.

"Didn't you write on your arm last time?" Haknyeon replies, and Euiwoong nods. "Then, let's try your face this time."

"What?" Euiwoong says. He narrows his eyes at Haknyeon. "You're joking, right? I'm not going to color on my face."

Haknyeon shrugs. "Why not? Come on, Woong, it might work. You've never had paint appear on anywhere other than your face, right?"

Euiwoong sighs. "I'm not--" he begins, bringing up his hands to touch his cheeks, "--ruining my face."

"Your face gets ruined every other day," Haknyeon deadpans, "and you already look ruined on a daily basis anyways."

Euiwoong aims a light punch at Haknyeon's arm for his insolence. He smiles when his fist connects and Haknyeon pulls back, looking offended.

"Why'd you punch me?" Haknyeon asks, fake scowling, "You meanie."

Euiwoong sighs, and falls forward, his face coming to rest on top of Haknyeon's desk -- on top of the worksheets they were supposed to be doing.

"More paint had better not appear," Haknyeon warns. "I actually put in effort today."

Euiwoong groans at his statement, his face still flat on the desk. Haknyeon laughs softly above him and pats his head. "I'm sorry," he says, "but I really do think you should try writing on your face. Who knows what'll happen? I think it's worth the chance."

Euiwoong looks up. "I can't even write it myself," he mutters, "it's going to be difficult and I'll probably end up writing backwards."

"I can do it for you," Haknyeon offers.

"Your handwriting is ugly," Euiwoong says.

Haknyeon narrows his eyes. He raises his hand and flicks Euiwoong on the forehead. "You should be grateful I haven't scolded you yet. I've never met any junior who is this mean to his hyung."

"Sorry," Euiwoong replies, both serious and not.

"Anyway, my ugly writing is better than backwards writing," Haknyeon continues. "I have time after school before I have to work, we can try it then."

"Yeah, fine," Euiwoong says. "I hope something happens."

"Me too," Haknyeon replies, "I don't want to keep on patrolling you just for your face. It's tiring."

Euiwoong rolls his eyes and sighs, burying his head in his arms that lay on top of Haknyeon's desk, until the latter pushes him off forcefully, muttering, "Unlike you, I can't slack off and still get perfect grades."

* * *

He and Haknyeon are in one of the school's washrooms later that day, a good twenty or thirty minutes after the last bell.

"I swear this had better work," Euiwoong says, as Haknyeon holds out the uncapped Sharpie in his hand, hovering above Euiwoong's cheek.

Haknyeon laughs. "Just tell me what to write and we'll go from there."

"Okay," Euiwoong replies, "you can just start with 'hello'."

Haknyeon carefully writes out the characters on Euiwoong's cheek. The tip of the marker barely touches Euiwoong's skin, his friend purposefully being cautious. Euiwoong appreciates it, but the sensation is cold and ticklish, so he squirms.

"There," Haknyeon says, retracting his hand and capping the marker. "Now we wait."

"Thanks," Euiwoong murmurs. He turns his head to look at himself in the mirror, and sure enough there's "hello" written on his cheek in Haknyeon's characteristic penmanship. "You didn't have to write it so large," Euiwoong says.

Haknyeon shrugs. "Sorry," he replies, "I'm a little bit nervous."

"Why are you? It's not your face or your soulmate," Euiwoong says, turning back around.

Haknyeon shrugs. "I don't know, maybe it's because I've never had this kind of thing happen to myself or see it happen to other people."

"Don't you have an older sister?" Euiwoong asks.

"Yeah, but she's twenty-one and she still hasn't gotten her soulmate signs yet," Haknyeon laughs. "It's real rare that you're this young and it's already beginning to happen to you."

"Huh," Euiwoong murmurs. He turns his head, and stares at himself in the mirror for a few more long seconds, particularly at his right cheek, which was where Haknyeon had written. Euiwoong squints slightly at the spot, as if he were trying to force words to appear. But after a couple more seconds, nothing happens, and he sighs, turning back around. "Tell me if something shows up," he says, and Haknyeon nods, murmuring a small, "Yeah, of course."

The two idly chat for the next several minutes. Euiwoong keeps on turning his head and looking at himself in the mirror, but Haknyeon tells him he's going to end up snapping his neck if he keeps on doing so. Around the ten minute mark, Haknyeon pulls out his phone, deciding to turn to media as a way to stave off the boredom from waiting.

They're going through the fourth mission song from the newest episode of Show Me the Money when the watch on Haknyeon's wrist beeps.

"Crap, I have to leave, or else I'll be late for work," he says, glancing down at his watch.

"Damn," Euiwoong murmurs. "What if they reply? Then how am I supposed to write?"

"I don't know," Haknyeon replies. "Don't you think it's odd though? It's been almost thirty minutes and no reply. If I had something on my face, I bet someone would point it out in an instant."

"Maybe," Euiwoong says. "But it's also a possibility they haven't--"

"Holy crap," Haknyeon breathes, his body suddenly frozen as his eyes go wide. "Euiwoong, it's-- it's--"

"What? What?" Euiwoong replies. Instinctively, he turns around and stares.

Sure enough, there's the slow crawling of color against his skin, right next to where Haknyeon had written "hello". It's a dark gray shade, the same tone of gray that had been used to paint the cracks on Euiwoong's face earlier that day.

Euiwoong lifts a hand and touches the trail of color gently. The paint is momentarily covered by his fingertips, yet the gray line continues to creep across his cheek, reappearing a second later -- it makes his stomach feel kind of uneasy, as although he's gotten used to seeing paint on his face he's never actually seen the process of it happening. He drops his hands, and waits, staring silently. Haknyeon is frozen too, watching Euiwoong's reflection in the mirror with an enraptured interest.

When the writing stops, they both let out breaths they didn't know they were holding.

"'What is this'?" Haknyeon reads, slowly.

"How do I reply?" Euiwoong hurriedly asks, after remaining silent for a few seconds.

"I--" Haknyeon begins, but his watch beeps again. "Shit," he says, looking down at his wrist. "If I don't get a move now, I'll be late for sure."

"It's fine," Euiwoong replies. "I'll just find a way to not write backwards."

"Be careful and remember to wash it off later," Haknyeon warns. "Or else what will your mother say?" he says, as he is digging around in his backpack for his pencil pouch to store the Sharpie.

Euiwoong sighs. He has his palms on face, cupped around his cheeks, as if his hands were holding up his head. "You're right," he murmurs, "she doesn't know."

"Yeah." Haknyeon slings his backpack on, and he looks at Euiwoong worriedly. "You decide what to do, Woong," he says. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Tell me what happens."

"I will," Euiwoong replies. "Thanks, hyung."

Haknyeon smiles. "No problem." He turns and pushes open the door of the washroom. Euiwoong watches him leave, only turning back to look at himself in the mirror when the door has stopped swaying back and forth.

After a minute or two of thinking, Euiwoong decides he will reply with "I'm your soulmate". He digs around in his pockets and pencil pouch for a pen, pulling out the blue ballpoint he had been using earlier. But when he rubs the nib of the pen against his palm, the ink that appears is patchy and only semi-opaque. He has to dig painfully hard into his skin in order to write.

Euiwoong sighs, and tosses the pen in the trashcan next to the sinks.

He stares at himself, again, for a few minutes, completely hesitant on how to proceed. When he looks at the time on his phone, he realizes he's been standing there for a total of eleven minutes. With no pen, Euiwoong can't do anything, even though he is itching to take action. He briefly wishes he could press his nails into the flesh on his cheek and create marks that would turn into ink in their wake.

But, those kinds of things don't happen.

He'll just have to wait until later, or whenever Haknyeon is next available.

Euiwoong leans forward, turning on the faucet, and places his cupped hands beneath the stream of water.

* * *

It's just slightly chilly, despite the late afternoon sun hanging high in the sky. The wind breezes past Euiwoong, brushing back his hair as he walks down the sidewalk. He stares straight up at the sky, a washed out blue-gray canvas, watching the wisps of clouds slowly move by him. He'll look to his left and right, taking in the bare sights of the gray stone walls of the buildings lining the street, the rusted street lamps, and the occasional dirty wrapper that blows by. He'll look slightly up, and he sees clotheslines suspended across squished apartment buildings, the pieces of clothing hanging on them the only pops of color in the neighborhood.

Except, sometimes there are anomalies to this perpetually dull environment. Euiwoong very much appreciates these anomalies.

Up ahead, the sides of buildings disappear and instead they are replaced with a cement-gray brick wall that rises high up into the air, shielding the neighborhood inside it from the strangers of the streets.

Well, it's normally gray, Euiwoong thinks. Except, today, it's not.

He sees color. Color all over the wall, coming together to create an image. It's not a severe pop of color, the artist only utilizing grays, whites, blacks, but most strikingly, a bright, fiery red.

There's a boy standing in front of the image of the wall. He has one arm folded across his torso, the other bent, hand rested on his chin while he stares, thinking.

Euiwoong approaches and stops a few meters away. He turns, and looks at the image.

It's a picture of a man, but a faceless man. He seems to be cowering in fear, his body crouched and his hands hovering above the area where his face should've been, painted a dark red.

But what's most noticeable about the image is the various speech bubbles floating around him -- or rather, they're not so much speech bubbles, Euiwoong realizes. The square where the text would normally appear has instead been converted into a face, adorned with almost frighteningly human-like features. There's at least six or seven bubbles all around the man, and each one depicts a different emotion.

The one bubble that depicts anger, the eyes of the face glaring at Euiwoong through the wall, lines and creases shaded exactly so that it feels like it's the face of a real person, is the only one painted in a severe shade of red.

"It's cool, isn't it?"

Euiwoong looks up. The only other person around him is the boy, and he still stands in his previous position, staring at the wall.

"Yeah, it is," Euiwoong replies. He steps a little bit closer to the boy. "Do you know who painted this?"

The boy nods. He turns, and looks at Euiwoong. A look of surprise passes his face. "You're a student?" he asks. Probably noticed the characteristic solid-colored polo and khakis Euiwoong is wearing, although he himself is only dressed in a black jacket and jeans.

"Yeah," Euiwoong replies. "You are too?"

The boy nods. "Where at?"

"Suji."

"Oh, me too."

"I'm Lee Euiwoong," Euiwoong introduces.

"Ahn Hyeongseop," the boy says. "It's nice to meet you. What year are you in?" he asks.

"Third," Euiwoong replies, "how about you?"

Hyeongseop hums. "Fourth," he says.

No wonder he's never seen Hyeongseop around, Euiwoong thinks. He hardly has any interaction with other years except for the one or two elective classes that are mixed. "Oh, you're the same year as my friend," he says.

"Who?" Hyeongseop asks.

"Joo Haknyeon," Euiwoong replies, "do you know him?"

"Yeah, he's that kid that always has that bulky black watch, right?"

Euiwoong laughs. Well, if there's any defining trait about Haknyeon… he's always on time. "Yeah, that's him."

"Cool." Hyeongseop smiles. "Where are you headed?"

"Just over that hill," Euiwoong says, lifting his head, indicating the black road that disappeared into the horizon right behind Hyeongseop.

"Oh, I'm going that way too," Hyeongseop replies. "Same neighborhood? The apartments that used to be green?"

"Yeah," Euiwoong replies.  _Huh_ , he thinks, tiling his head. Odd. "It's weird that I've never seen you around," he says. He takes a step closer to Hyeongseop, who stays still. It's only when Euiwoong takes a stride further from where Hyeongseop is standing does the latter move. They begin walking side by side, their strides matching naturally and perfectly.

"Yeah, it is," Hyeongseop agrees. "Maybe it's just a coincidence." He shrugs. "What electives do you take?"

"Marketing and technology," Euiwoong replies.

Hyeongseop hums as a response. "Fancy," he comments, and smiles.

"What about you?" Euiwoong asks.

"Just art and a free period. I like to have as few classes as possible," Hyeongseop replies.

Euiwoong laughs. "I feel you," he responds. "Lucky you though, I still need the credits to graduate."

"Well, next year you'll get to be as lazy as you want," Hyeongseop says, and grins.

He and Euiwoong walk together until the street splits and they find out they're on opposite ends from each other. Euiwoong learns a little bit about Hyeongseop, how he's carefree and relaxed, how he's rather absent-minded but his friend Woojin keeps him on his toes, how he loves to draw but he admires graffiti artists and painters as much as he admires Matisse.

And in turn, Hyeongseop gets to learn about Euiwoong too. About how he's supposedly a smart kid for his age but instead he just thinks he takes advantage of good opportunities, about how he likes to play video games mostly for their storylines, about how he's very down-to-earth and sometimes Haknyeon calls him an old man.

"I'll see you sometime in school, yeah?" Hyeongseop says, as they are parting ways. "If you ever wanna say hi, I'm in the art room after class sometimes."

"Maybe I'll drop in one day," Euiwoong says.

"Cool, if you do we can draw together," Hyeongseop replies, smiling.

He salutes Euiwoong before he turns around and walks away.

* * *

"Nothing," Euiwoong says, when he sees Haknyeon's very expectant face the next day.

"Seriously?" Haknyeon responds, looking mildly crestfallen.

"Well, my pen ran out of ink, so I couldn't really do anything," Euiwoong replies. He shrugs, and sits down in his chair right in front of Haknyeon. "We'll just try again sometime else. Do you have time today?"

Haknyeon shakes his head. "Not until the weekend," he replies, and sighs, his chin placed in his palm propped up by his elbow as he leans forward, staring out the window. "Only two days until the weekend. You don't have to wait for me, though, if you don't want to. You can go ahead and try yourself."

"Hey, it's okay," Euiwoong says, softly. "I know you're really curious about all of this, probably just as much as me." He laughs for a second, his voice light. "Waiting for you is the least I can do for you -- after all, you've kept this a secret and watched out for me whenever my face starts turning different colors. I really appreciate it."

Haknyeon turns a bit and looks at Euiwoong. "No problem," he says, a smile breaking across his lips. "Saturday, yeah? Should I stop by your place?"

"Yup," Euiwoong replies. "My parents should be out until around four or five, so leave before then. Just send me a text before you leave your place."

"Will do," Haknyeon replies. He turns again, to look out the window, and Euiwoong swivels his body back to face the front of the classroom.

It's maybe about twenty minutes into the class, fifteen minutes into the first lecture, and Euiwoong is stuck in a daze as he idly taps his foot and stares at the window, most of the words that come out of his teacher's mouth flying in through one ear and out the other.

Even though there's generally not much movement outside, Euiwoong has made it a habit to look at the world outside the confines of the school building. Today, there's more wind than there was yesterday, and it ruffles the overgrown grass on the hill that the building sits atop, creating waves and ripples in the sea of green. It picks up the dirt from the red pit, creating small whirlwinds of crimson that settle after a few seconds.

And then, out of the bottom of his view, a figure appears.

Euiwoong's eyes fly open instantly, the fog from boredom and mild drowsiness gone from his mind. It's odd, seeing a person out there, because it's the middle of class and all the staff and students are stuck inside the school building. The establishment rarely receives any visitors as well, unless they are either education officials, food suppliers, or law enforcement.

The figure steps out to where Euiwoong can now see their-- _his_ full body. It's clearly a student, because he's wearing a white polo, khakis, and a black backpack which rests on his shoulders.

The boy swivels his head back and forth, as if checking to see if anyone is in the area. And then when he turns just a little bit towards Euiwoong's direction, Euiwoong startles.

He doesn't see the boy's entire face, only getting to glimpse the side of it. But that one second was enough for him to put a name to the figure -- it's  _Hyeongseop_ , he realizes.

After looking around for a few seconds, Hyeongseop starts running. Euiwoong watches him intently, his eyes trained on Hyeongseop's movement with mild fascination and much curiosity.

Hyeongseop's strides are long and quick, despite his height. He covers much of the ground rapidly. He doesn't even slow down when he approaches the fence separating the school's perimeter and the parking lot. There's a large spot in the wire that had been crushed sometime before Euiwoong entered the school, now standing at about half of its original height, but still tall enough that no normal human being could just leap over it casually.

Hyeongseop approaches that spot in the fence at the same speed he had been previously running. Euiwoong almost expects him to crash into it, and he mentally asks why he isn't slowing down.

But right when Hyeongseop gets up close to the fence, he just braces both his hands on the top of the metal, and with one smooth movement hoists himself up, tucking his legs underneath him. His feet momentarily balance on the top of the wire before he jumps down and lands with no hesitation. The whole movement was so smooth, so seamless, so automatic -- as if Hyeongseop had jumped over that fence many, many times before.

He takes off running the millisecond right after. Euiwoong's eyes follow him, right until he disappears out of view at the very edge of campus, right at the seam of where the black tar of the road meets the dirty gray of the sidewalk.

"Did you… just see that?" Euiwoong whispers, turning his head back to look at Haknyeon.

"What?" Haknyeon replies, yawning, and he clamps a hand over his mouth in order to stifle the noise.

"Outside," Euiwoong says. "Hyeongseop-hyung just ran off campus."

Haknyeon shakes his head. "Hopefully he doesn't get caught," he says. "Didn't know you knew him anyway, Woong."

Euiwoong shrugs. "Met him yesterday while I was walking home. We live in the same neighborhood apparently."

"Hmm," Haknyeon replies. He falls forward, resting his head on his desk.

Euiwoong laughs softly. He turns back around, but looks out the window once again.

He can still imagine--and still see--Hyeongseop's form running across the grass, jumping over the fence, and sprinting down the pavement right before his eyes.

* * *

"Hello?" Euiwoong pokes his head around the doorframe.

"Oh, hi." There's a boy standing at the front of the room, a black camera held in his hands, the thin and frayed strap attached to the camera hanging around his neck. He'd been fiddling with the buttons on the device, and he looks up when Euiwoong speaks.

"Is uh… Hyeongseop-hyung here?" Euiwoong asks, stepping through the doorway.

"He should be here soon," the boy replies. "You can just wait here."

"Okay." Euiwoong walks over to a table, pulling out one of the stools and taking a seat. He looks around the room, staring at the organized mess around him. It's been a couple of years since he's stepped foot in the art room, and it still looks very much the same. There are bins of art supplies stacked at random corners of the room, the tables and stools all rusted and dented metal, most of them already shaky and unstable with a shorter fourth leg. A few easels sit in the far corner, some with canvases, some only their splintered wood frames. The canvases vary from spotless white, to ripped and dirtied, to painted with the unfinished journey of an artist's brush, to covered with concluded visions and stories told through no words and many colors.

Euiwoong looks around for the next minute or so, his head swiveling back and forth, before he settles for looking straight ahead at the whiteboard at the front of the class, reading the class objective and their daily plans.

"Hey, welcome back!"

Euiwoong turns his head, looking at the source of the sound.

"Hey, Woojin," Hyeongseop breathes. He's clearly out of breath, his hands placed on his knees as he leans forward, panting.

"You need some water?" The other boy -- Woojin, asks. He grabs the water bottle sitting on the desk next to him, and offers it to Hyeongseop.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Hyeongseop says, taking the bottle, "thanks."

"That kid over there was looking for you," Woojin says. He turns and looks over at Euiwoong, Hyeongseop following his gaze.

"Oh, hi, Euiwoong," Hyeongseop says, a smile appearing on his face. "He's the guy I told you I met while looking at the new work a few days ago," he says, to Woojin.

"Ah," Woojin replies. He holds up his camera. "Still taking photos today? Or nah?"

Hyeongseop nods. "Yeah, just give me a few minutes." He walks up to Euiwoong, placing an elbow on the table in front of the latter. "Nice to see ya here," he says, smiling. "How've you been since last I saw ya?"

Euiwoong returns his smile. "Alright, I guess," he replies. "So, uh, I know nothing about art…"

Hyeongseop laughs. "Don't worry. There's a lot to it, but it's not a lot that can be taught or explained."

Euiwoong looks at him confusedly, about to ask what exactly Hyeongseop may mean, but the latter continues to speak.

"Woojin over there is a photographer, if you already didn't notice," Hyeongseop says, "I help him a lot with finding things to take pictures of. Sometimes it's my own art, but most of the time we'll go around the area and take pictures of whatever we find."

"Your own art?" Euiwoong asks.

Hyeongseop nods. "Yeah," he replies, before walking around the tables to the easels in the corner. He pulls off the canvas on one of them, and brings it back to Euiwoong. "I normally draw, but pencil doesn't pick up on camera as well as paint."

Euiwoong stares at the canvas Hyeongseop places in front of him.  _It's beautiful_ , he thinks. There's only one object in the image -- a tree, the bark painted a rich brown, its lines, crevices, and shape all shaded with a dark gray. But what's most striking is its leaves -- they're not your standard spectrum of green shades. Rather, there's every color imaginable -- blues, pinks, reds, oranges, yellows, purple, all ranging from light pastels to the deepest, almost-black tones. They're painted in such a way that their colors don't bleed and muddle together. And as Euiwoong looks the painting up and down, he notices that although there's obviously leaves attached to the branches of the tree, some are mid-flight in their way to the ground or even floating away from the scene, as if carried away by an invisible wind.

"It's amazing," Euiwoong breathes, and Hyeongseop laughs at his reaction.

"Thanks," he says. "This is probably one of my better works." He picks it up, and brings it back to its easel. "Do you want to come with Woojin and I? We're just going to wander around the area while he takes photos."

"Oh," Euiwoong murmurs, "sure." He slides off the stool, following Hyeongseop as they approach Woojin, still standing near the entrance and fiddling with the buttons on his camera.

"Don't mind if he tags along, right?" Hyeongseop asks, pointing at Euiwoong.

"Yeah, of course not," Woojin replies, looking up. He smiles amiably at Euiwoong, and Euiwoong stares at his smile -- it's a little bit lopsided, one side of his mouth more open than the other, exposing his canine teeth that protrude slightly further than normal. "It'll be better, anyways, since now I have another object I can photograph. Of course, if that's okay with you, Euiwoong," Woojin adds.

Euiwoong nods. "I don't mind," he says.

"Awesome," Woojin replies, "let's go."

Euiwoong trails after the two older boys for the next few hours. It's not like what he imagined in his head, when Woojin mentioned that he'd take pictures of him and Hyeongseop. Hyeongseop literally runs up and down the streets they walk, even sometimes into the middle of the road, his head held up to the sky, his arms spread wide, laughing as the wind blows by him and covers his face with strands of black hair. Woojin keeps up with no problem -- they've probably gone on these kinds of excursions often, Euiwoong thinks.

They go all over the neighborhood -- all the places in the school that're still open after hours, to the little hubs of mini-marts and gas stations, to the broken wood and stone of the abandoned warehouse just a kilometer or two away, to the small clusters of apartment buildings and their roughly planted community gardens, to the peeling and rusted playground in the middle of the area that the residents share.

Woojin will occasionally stop to take photos of still-life he thinks is interesting. Sometimes it's a wrapper that's floating across the street, sometimes it's an oddly twisted plant, sometimes it's an interesting combination of clothing colors hanging up on a clothesline up in the sky. His favorite thing to photograph, however, is Hyeongseop, Euiwoong notices. Or more like, both Hyeongseop and Euiwoong together for today.

Hyeongseop extends one hand towards Euiwoong. "Just put your foot in that crevice and hook your fingers in that crook," he says, "and grab my hand."

"Uh…" Euiwoong begins, but he tucks the toe of his sneaker into the crevice anyways, mentally praying he doesn't slip. He reaches out, grasping Hyeongseop's hand, following his instructions.

Hyeongseop's grip on him is firm and confident, and with one smooth movement he pulls Euiwoong up high enough so the latter can wrap his arms over the top of the wall and hoist himself up the rest of the way.

Euiwoong clumsily climbs onto the gray stone surface -- there's hardly any enough space for him to balance himself, and when he looks down at the ground unintentionally he becomes a bit dizzy.

"Woah," Hyeongseop says, reaching out his arms and holding onto Euiwoong to steady him, "be careful, and don't look down."

Euiwoong gulps as he gingerly seats himself next to Hyeongseop, his legs dangling down. He has a tight grip on Hyeongseop's jacket sleeve -- it's a long way to fall, and needless to say, he's a little bit nervous.

"Can you still see us, Woojin?" Hyeongseop asks.

"Yup!" Woojin replies. He's crouched on the ground, one knee on the pavement. He holds his camera up to his face, angling the lens in the direction of Hyeongseop and Euiwoong.

"Just relax," Hyeongseop says, and he places his free hand on top of the hand that's gripping his sleeve. "You're not going to fall. If you fall, I'll pull you back up before you touch the ground," he says, laughing at the anxious face Euiwoong is making.

"O-Okay," Euiwoong replies, and he lifts his head up, telling himself to not look down at the ground.

"I'm going to take pictures now!" Woojin says, and Hyeongseop shoots him a grin and a thumbs up.

Hyeongseop begins to idly chatter as Woojin snaps photos for the first minute or so. He has his palms on the edge of the top of the wall, his legs out in the air and swinging back and forth and up and down. Euiwoong looks at him the whole time, sitting there with as little movement as possible, his face the only part of his body relaxed.

That is, until Hyeongseop holds out his left palm. "What?" Euiwoong asks.

"Take it," Hyeongseop replies, and Euiwoong complies.

Hyeongseop raises their joined hands in the air, much to Euiwoong's chagrin. "I told you, you're not going to fall," Hyeongseop laughs, when a look of pure fear passes over Euiwoong's face at having let go of the wall.

Woojin, still crouched on the pavement, starts laughing, but his camera is still held in front of his face so Euiwoong only sees his lopsided smile.

Hyeongseop's grin widens, and he lifts up his other hand, stretching it perpendicular to his body, his palm flat and fingers splayed apart.

"How are you not scared?" Euiwoong asks incredulously. He tries to lift up his other arm just like Hyeongseop, but he can't get further than an awkward bent elbow.

"Don't know," Hyeongseop simply replies. "Just  _don't feel_  scared, Euiwoong," he instructs, "feel the air. It's windier up here, did you notice? If you spread out your hand like this, you can feel it running through your fingers."

Euiwoong takes several deep breaths, closing his eyes for a moment and focusing on calming his nerves. He looks up to the sky, trying his best to ignore the fact that he's sitting on a thin surface two or three meters up in the air, before stretching out his right arm and slowly spreading his hand open, one movement at a time. And then he turns and looks at Hyeongseop.

"See?" Hyeongseop says, and smiles.

Euiwoong laughs. The wind, brushing in between his fingers, feels like he's running his hand across silk. It's a little bit ticklish.

* * *

"Wah, that one looks good," Hyeongseop says, staring down at the camera's viewfinder.

"Yeah, I quite like it," Woojin agrees. He presses the next button, and the picture on the screen changes.

Hyeongseop instantly starts giggling. "That one's gotta be my favorite, though," he says, through breaths. Woojin laughs too, but Euiwoong sighs, although a wide grin breaks across his face a moment after.

"Really," he says, sarcastic.

"Yes," Hyeongseop replies.

It's a photo taken after Hyeongseop had changed the direction he was sitting, his back then facing Woojin. He's hanging upside down off of the wall, both of his hands extended diagonally above his head, his eyes closed as he's in the middle of laughing. But Euiwoong next to him has a look of pure, untainted shock on his face as he grips onto the edge of the top of the wall, looking down at Hyeongseop with a strained grimace.

"Email me these?" Hyeongseop asks, and Woojin nods, continuing to flip through more photos.

"You look good in all of these, hyung," Euiwoong notes. Yes, in every single photo that includes Hyeongseop, he's smiling completely naturally, even when he's directly looking into the lens. It's as if there were no camera in the first place.

Hyeongseop grins. "I just laugh a lot," he says, shrugging. "If you're more relaxed, you look much better in photographs."

"Aaaand, this is all of them," Woojin says, as he's reached the last frame, his camera refusing to show more photos. "Thanks a lot for helping me today, guys."

"Yeah, no problem," Hyeongseop replies.

"Hey, Euiwoong, if you want to come again with us sometime feel free," Woojin offers. He smiles, showing off his canine teeth again. "Hyeongseop and I usually do this on Fridays, sometimes more often if we have time. And we also sometimes go to different places."

"Oh, yeah, that'd be awesome," Euiwoong replies.

Woojin nods. "It's probably time for me to head back home now," he says, and looks up at the sky, "it's getting a bit dark."

Sure enough, the street lamps have turned on and the sun no longer casts a blanket of warmth across the blue-gray of the sky. It's gotta be at least five in the evening, Euiwoong thinks.

"I'll see ya next week," Hyeongseop says, waving.

Woojin returns his wave. "It was nice meeting you, Euiwoong."

"Yeah, same," Euiwoong replies. "Have a good weekend!"

Woojin turns around and begins jogging down the sidewalk. Once his figure disappears around a corner, Hyeongseop sighs.

"Let's go home," he says.

Euiwoong nods.

* * *

Haknyeon holds his uncapped Sharpie right in front of Euiwoong's face. "Ready?" he asks.

Euiwoong nods. "Go ahead, but let me remind you to not write so big this time."

Haknyeon laughs for a moment before steadying his hand and beginning to write on Euiwoong's cheek.

"There," he says, after finishing writing 'hello', "now we wait. Again."

Euiwoong sighs and falls backwards onto the cushions of his couch. "This stresses me out more than it should," he says. "I wonder what kind of person they are. They're a painter, but a painter could have any kind of personality."

"Well, they're someone who answered with 'what is this' last time. So they're probably someone who's curious?" Haknyeon replies.

"Hyung, that is an extremely vague description," Euiwoong mutters.

Haknyeon laughs. "Sorry, man, I got no clue. I only know as much as you do at this point."

Euiwoong lifts his head. "Yeah, I know, sorry for bagging on you."

"It's okay," Haknyeon replies. "I'm hungry, is there anything to eat?"

"Go boil water," Euiwoong says, "I only have ramen packets and raw vegetables left but I don't trust you with anything more than boiling water or using the microwave."

"Yeah, I expected so," Haknyeon laughs, rolling his eyes. He stands up. "Do you want to come with me so I can watch your face?"

Euiwoong nods, climbing off of his couch and following Haknyeon to his kitchen. He idly leans on his counter while he watches Haknyeon move about. "Get two," he says, when Haknyeon sticks his head in the cupboard where the ramen packets are stored.

Twenty minutes later, Haknyeon is slurping up his noodles while Euiwoong reads something on his phone, occasionally bringing a wad of noodles to his lips.

But suddenly, the slurping noises stop, and he looks up from his phone.

Haknyeon is frozen, his chopsticks held in mid-air, noodles still caught between them.

"They're writing," he says.

"...What does it say?" Euiwoong asks, after a few seconds.

"'What is this?' again," Haknyeon replies. He drops his chopsticks into his bowl. "Do you want me to get the Sharpie?"

"Yeah," Euiwoong murmurs.

Haknyeon pushes back his chair. He returns a minute later. "What do you want me to write?"

"'I'm your soulmate'," Euiwoong replies.

"Okay." Haknyeon uncaps the marker and leans forward, placing a hand under Euiwoong's chin to steady himself as he writes.

He sits back after he's done. A smile breaks across his face -- the first sign of repose after the air had suddenly turned quiet and tense. "I can't wait to see how this goes," he says.

Euiwoong smiles too, because he can't either. His heart is beating much faster than it had been a few minutes ago, his palms a little more sweaty.

But Haknyeon jolts a second later, and Euiwoong jumps too because whenever Haknyeon suddenly moves it means something is happening.

"They're writing," Haknyeon says.

Euiwoong stays silent, unmoving, staring right at his friend so he can clearly see the writing.

"'Nice to meet you'," Haknyeon says, after a few seconds. "What do you want me to write next?"

"Maybe 'how are you?'" Euiwoong replies. Haknyeon nods and stands up, about to pick up the marker and write again but he stops mid-movement.

"What?" Euiwoong asks.

"There's a red line on your face," Haknyeon notes. "They're writing on top of that line."

"Oh."

"'Can you see the line I just painted?'"

"Well of course," Euiwoong says. "You know how to reply."

Haknyeon smiles, nodding his head. He ends up writing just a simple "yes".

"'I'm sorry'," he reads, a minute later, "'I didn't know the paint would appear on you too. I'm sorry if I caused any trouble.'"

"Well, they seem very nice," Euiwoong says, and he lets out a breath of relief. Yes, they are his soulmate, but they're still a stranger, and Euiwoong didn't want to deal with someone abrasive and rude. "Tell them it's okay, that they should just give me a warning beforehand."

Haknyeon does as Euiwoong asks. More writing quickly appears.

"'How would I do that?'"

"Oh," Euiwoong murmurs. Now that he thinks about it, he's not quite sure. If paint only appeared on his face, then how would he be able to see the warning his soulmate would send him if he wasn't near a mirror?

"Oh, there's more," Haknyeon notes. "Wait." After several long seconds, he says, "'Tell me your schedule. When you're busy.'"

"Just the school schedule, seven to three. Oh, and after six, because that's when my parents come home," Euiwoong replies.

"'You're a student?'"

"Yes."

"'Oh, me too.'"

"What?" Euiwoong says. "No no, don't write that," he adds, when Haknyeon is leaning in with the marker poised in his hand. "I don't know if I expected that or not," he murmurs.

"Well," Haknyeon begins, "it'd be real awkward if they were so much older, so there's that."

"True."

"And Woong, I'm beginning to run out of-- oh, seems like they noticed," Haknyeon says.

"Huh?"

"I was about to say I'm running out of space on your face, but it looks like they're writing about the same thing too," Haknyeon continues. "'I'm running out of space, and I have to go somewhere soon so I can't have ink on my face. I'm sorry, but it was very nice meeting you.'"

"Hmm," Euiwoong hums. "Well, I guess that's the end of it for today."

"Yeah," Haknyeon murmurs, "at least now you won't have to worry about paint on your face in the middle of class."

"True," Euiwoong replies, and sighs.

Later that day, when he is lying in his bed, staring up at his ceiling, he envisions all the possible combinations of personalities and appearances his soulmate might have.

* * *

"Why do you like art so much?"

"Hmmm?" Hyeongseop runs the colored pencil in an arc over the page, before muttering under his breath, "This looks lopsided."

"I don't want to sound insensitive, but I never got it," Euiwoong says. He rests his chin on his palm, propped up by his elbow, idly watching Hyeongseop draw. "It's pretty, and I like to look at it, but if you want me to go deeper than that or create it myself, then I just get lost."

Hyeongseop grabs a different pencil from the pile next to him, and creates another arc over the one he just drew. "You remember a few weeks ago how I told you that a lot of art can't be taught or explained?" he asks.

"Yeah," Euiwoong replies. "I still don't know what you mean."

"Well," Hyeongseop begins, "you can be taught things like how to draw or color theory or art history. But not everyone has a certain mindset when it comes to art. Why does painting and drawing appeal to some people, but others are perfectly fine being the observers and not the creators? How does a creator get an idea for the pieces they produce? You could just say it all boils down to inspiration, as then again everyone is inspired by different things and in different ways. One person could apply a source of inspiration to creating a piece of art, while another person could apply it to alter the way they think about a certain topic. Or, a lot of people simply enjoy that inspiration and don't do anything with it. Just enjoy it."

Hyeongseop looks up at Euiwoong, a soft smile on his face. "So yeah, a lot about art can't be taught or explained very well. It's different from person to person."

"Huh," Euiwoong murmurs, thinking for a moment. Hyeongseop's words make sense -- he's never thought about art from that kind of viewpoint. To him, it's always been whether you can create a good piece of art or not. If you can draw a human without having to resort to a stick figure. "But," he begins, "that doesn't explain why you like it."

"Oh, right," Hyeongseop laughs. "I like it because it's simply so  _different_. You and I, we go to school every day. In the same neighborhood. Wake up at the same time, return at the same time. The streets we walk by are all the same color. The people we see are all the same people. The things that happen each day are all the same as well. Art is just something, amidst this giant sea of routine, that shakes things up a bit."

"I see," Euiwoong replies, quietly. His eyes flicker back and forth across his field of vision. The art room still looks the same as it had a few weeks ago, and he remembers noting that same kind of consistency when he first stepped foot into the room for the first time this year. He's just so used to everything being the same, to the point where it's just become a part of his life.

"My favorite part, though," Hyeongseop begins, "is how any piece of art can be interpreted in an infinite amount of ways."

"Like symbolism and whatnot, right?" Euiwoong says.

"Yeah," Hyeongseop replies, "something like that. Do you remember the graffiti we were looking at when we met?"

"Yes, the one with the man and all the faces, right?" Euiwoong says.

Hyeongseop nods. "I really like that one," he begins. "What do you think it means?"

"I thought it was just how he's scared of all of those strong emotions," Euiwoong hums. "Because, you know, the expressions on those faces were so exaggerated."

"That's one thing," Hyeongseop replies. "But, have you ever thought about what else it could mean?"

"No, like what?"

"You know how those faces had the little commas with them like speech bubbles?"

"Yeah, I remember that."

"Well, you could think of those faces as the different masks that man has. Because he's faceless, he has no personality except one that's weak and conquerable. Those masks are what takes ahold of him and makes him frightened, because they're so strong compared to his faceless self," Hyeongseop says.

"Wow," Euiwoong murmurs.

"Or, also because they're drawn in the form of speech bubbles, they could also be different people, different voices. They shout things at him all at once, and he doesn't know which one to listen to, so that makes him hide inside himself. Or, do you remember how that one angry face was the only one painted bright red?"

Euiwoong nods.

"Maybe that's the emotion that the man has most of the time, and he can't control it. It takes over him, and it drives away any possibility of him experiencing any other emotion."

There's a moment of silence after Hyeongseop stops speaking. Euiwoong stares in incredulity, before quietly saying, "Hyung…"

"Yeah?" Hyeongseop replies.

"How do you even come up with all of these things?" Euiwoong asks. He stares at Hyeongseop's face, mouth slightly ajar. A little bit surprised, but mostly fascinated. "I feel like a dumbass now."

Hyeongseop laughs at his reaction. "Like I said, a lot of it is just being the type of person to pick out these things," he says, "and another part of it is being trained to analyze art. For me, it's just mostly being that type of thinker along with the fact that I've thought a lot about my own art, and that translates a bit into being able to pick apart other pieces of art too."

"That's pretty amazing," Euiwoong murmurs. "You're pretty amazing."

Hyeongseop rolls his eyes, but he's clearly very flattered, a wide grin appearing on his lips. "Thanks," he replies, "I wouldn't go as far as calling myself 'amazing', but I do think I'm pretty great."

Euiwoong starts laughing, and Hyeongseop joins him. They look at each other, at each other's smiling faces, at the way they're both bent forward over the table, hands and elbows splayed across the wooden surface, at they way they're able to see their own reflections in the other's eyes -- and Euiwoong feels a warmth in his heart.

* * *

The next day, Euiwoong walks home by himself. He's casually strolling down the sidewalk, face turned up to the skyline. Today is the warmest it's been in a few weeks, but the wind is still here, as it is every day.

Another few minutes and he can see the wall with the graffiti, the bright red of the mural a speck in the distance, but a very noticeable speck. There's a person crouched right in front of it, holding out something in their hand and running it up and down the wall. Euiwoong isn't close enough to see who it is or what they're doing, but his curiosity speeds up his step.

Another minute or so and he can clearly see who it is.

It's Woojin, crouched there, one knee on the ground.

And as Euiwoong gets closer, he sees what Woojin's holding in his hand.

It's a can of spray paint. A paintbrush, bristles covered in black, lies on the pavement next to him.

Woojin hears Euiwoong's footsteps, and looks up when the latter approaches him.

"What're you doing?" Euiwoong asks.

"Just fixing the painting," Woojin replies. He presses down on the nozzle of the can in his hand, and black ink shoots out of it. "Some gang put their symbol over part of it."

Euiwoong turns, watching the movement of Woojin's hand. The latter is slowly and carefully tracing the lines of the original image. From a distance, the part that Woojin had finished re-painting looks almost as if it were never retouched in the first place. He must've had some sort of experience with graffiti art, Euiwoong thinks. "Why?" he asks. "It's not your art, is it?"

"No, of course not," Woojin laughs, "I'm not skilled enough nor creative enough to paint something like this."

"Then why are you bothering to fix it?" Euiwoong replies.

Woojin looks up. "He didn't tell you?"

"What? Who didn't tell me what?"

Woojin leans back for a moment, laughing. "Classic," he says, smiling.

Euiwoong stares at him, clearly confused, and unsure what to say.

He stands up after catching his breath, stepping back a few paces until he stands next to Euiwoong. "This whole thing," he begins, stretching his arms wide, "it's all Hyeongseop."

"What?" Euiwoong asks, surprised. His eyes go wide. "Wait, you mean-- He's the one who--?"

Woojin nods. "Yeah," he says. "This is all Hyeongseop's magic."

And then, suddenly, it all makes sense to Euiwoong.

* * *

"Do you think I could've met them already?" Euiwoong asks, sighing as he leans forward onto Haknyeon's desk.

"I don't know," Haknyeon replies. "There's a chance, but then again there's thousands of high schools in Korea. They might not even be a Korean, just somebody who knows how to read and write in Korean."

"Yeah, that's true," Euiwoong murmurs. He folds his arms on Haknyeon's desk, and rests his chin on them. "Pretty rare, huh?"

"Yup," Haknyeon hums. "You're really lucky, though. You know how everybody's soulmate signs are different, right?"

"Yeah," Euiwoong replies. "My mother told me hers were pretty weird. Her veins would turn a different color depending on the emotions my dad was feeling."

Haknyeon laughs. "That is weird," he agrees. "It's rare, but cool that you and your soulmate have some way of communication. By the way, has anything new happened?"

Euiwoong shakes his head. "There's been less paint appearing on my face, and when it does it's not during school, which is great. But I also just don't really know what to say."

Haknyeon looks at him incredulously. "You're joking, right?" he asks. "You could always just ask, like, 'who are you'?"

"Yeah, but…" Euiwoong shrugs. He's thought about doing that, but there's a part of him that's scared.

It's because everyone else he's ever known has met their soulmate by fate. By destiny, by fortune, by the designated time they were  _supposed_ to meet them. If Euiwoong meddles in the path fate has planned for him, he's a little bit frightened something might go wrong. It's a very silly fear, he realizes, but it is still a fear nonetheless -- something that causes him hesitation whenever he picks up a marker and stares at his reflection in his bathroom mirror.

"Fate, huh?" Haknyeon asks, picking up on Euiwoong's uncertainty.

"Yeah," Euiwoong replies. "I'm not an idiot for thinking like that, am I?"

Haknyeon shakes his head. "I understand you," he begins, "all this stuff is so… unknown. We're just taught to go along with it, nothing else. So I understand why you're not sure what to do."

Euiwoong nods slowly at his friend's words. "I think I'm probably just going to leave things as they are," he says, "like before. When I thought I'd just rely on fate to decide when we meet."

"Probably the safest idea," Haknyeon replies. "Fate is quite a funny thing, isn't it?"

"For sure," Euiwoong replies. He closes his eyes for a moment, and takes a deep breath.

* * *

The first time Euiwoong visits Hyeongseop's home, he's quite… shocked, to say the least. Shocked at how organized, but simultaneously how utterly  _messy_ , the whole place is.

It's designed the same way Euiwoong's apartment is, with a living room that opens into the kitchen and dining room, the bedrooms and bathrooms down a separate hall.

But it looks like the living room isn't so much a living room. It's been converted into an -- an  _art studio_ , Euiwoong realizes.

"Sorry for there being so much crap lying around," Hyeongseop says, leaning down to pick up a few scraps of metal and carrying them to the pile in the corner, before dropping them down on the plastic-covered carpet next to it. "My dad is, uh… a sculptor."

"I thought you told me he's a lawyer," Euiwoong replies, his head still swiveling back and forth as he takes in all his surroundings.

"Well, he was, and still sort of is. He's got a degree and had a job at a firm and everything, but he hated the job and so now he just picks up cases on the side when sculpting can't make him any money." Hyeongseop shrugs.

"Is he how you got into art in the first place?" Euiwoong asks.

"I suppose," Hyeongseop replies. "He was part of it, but I guess the other part was that I simply liked to draw."

Euiwoong follows Hyeongseop as he steps around the piles of scraps. When he sees the other side of the living room, an awed "woah" automatically tumbles out of his lips. "What's that for?" he asks.

"That part is mine," Hyeongseop replies, sweeping an arm over the area. There's a large white canvas strapped onto the wall. Half of it is filled with splatters of all the colors in the rainbow, the blue tarp sitting underneath it covered in paint as well. And as Euiwoong looks closer, he sees holes in the canvas. Off to the side, there's an easel with small tubes of paint sitting on the floor next to it -- obviously, Euiwoong knows what that's for. But he doesn't know about the giant canvas looming over their heads.

"Don't laugh at me," Hyeongseop begins, "but when I'm angry, what I do is I fill balloons with paint. And then I tape it onto the canvas, and then I just throw darts at them, and have fun exploding paint all over the place."

"And your dad lets you do that?" Euiwoong asks, incredulously, staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of him.

"Yeah, he doesn't mind," Hyeongseop replies. He laughs. "He's an artist too, so I guess he understands."

"Huh," Euiwoong murmurs, "that's pretty cool. My parents would never let me do such a thing."

Hyeongseop shrugs, a smile appearing on his face. "Maybe we can explode paint together sometime."

"That'd be great," Euiwoong says, grinning.

He follows Hyeongseop into his room. He's surprised, again, when he sees that Hyeongseop has his television, video game console, and computer all in the same room. "This is an old model," Hyeongseop says, patting the console, "and I don't have a lot of games, sorry."

Euiwoong just shakes his head. "Since when do any of us?" he murmurs, still looking around in fascination. "How'd you get your dad to let you keep electronics in your room? My parents insist everything stays in our living room."

Hyeongseop laughs. "Well, firstly, I don't really have a living room," he replies, "and I don't know, my dad's pretty lenient. He doesn't care much about what I do as long as I'm healthy and I don't get in legal trouble."

"Lucky," Euiwoong murmurs. "Where do you want me to sit?"

"Anywhere. The floor, my chair, my bed. Don't care," Hyeongseop replies.

Euiwoong nods, plopping down in the middle of Hyeongseop's room. He leans back, looking up at Hyeongseop's ceiling. He's surprised, again, as he stares upwards. So far, everything about Hyeongseop's place is surprising. "There's stars on your ceiling," he says.

Hyeongseop glances up momentarily. "Yeah, there are," he replies. "They're the kind that glow in the dark, do you want to see?"

Euiwoong nods. "Sure."

Hyeongseop walks up to his bed, climbing over it to pull at the blinds on his window.

"Woah," Euiwoong breathes. "They're so pretty." Sure enough, the stars on Hyeongseop's ceiling glow brightly in the very dim light. They all radiate a golden color, and now that Euiwoong can clearly see their glow, there's many more of them than he could initially see with the daylight coming in from the window.  _It's like a whole galaxy up there_ , he thinks. Stars of every size, all placed in random swirls and patterns across the whole ceiling.

"Sometimes, if I'm bored, I'll reorganize them into a different shape," Hyeongseop says. "The largest ones only, of course," he adds, with a laugh, when Euiwoong looks over in shock, because there's simply so many stars up there it'd take an eternity to rearrange every single one. "It's like I have my own universe in here," he murmurs, taking a seat next to Euiwoong.

"It's beautiful," Euiwoong hums, "how'd you come with the idea to put them up there?"

"Well," Hyeongseop begins, "I just one day thought to myself that galaxies are really pretty. So I went and bought the stars and got my dad's ladder and just put them up myself."

"Is everything you do just because you randomly think of it one day?" Euiwoong asks, looking at Hyeongseop, who is still looking up at the sky on his ceiling.

"Basically," Hyeongseop says, returning Euiwoong's gaze. "If I need inspiration, sometimes I'll just turn off my lights and close my window and look up there. Find patterns and images in the stars, and they help me create stories for my artwork."

"I know I've said this before, but you're honestly amazing, hyung," Euiwoong murmurs, "because I could never come up with anything like you do myself. I'm just pretty uncreative."

Hyeongseop smiles. "No, you're not," he replies. "You need creativity to excel in school, don't you? You can't learn properly just by having everything fed to you. You've gotta think and comprehend for yourself."

"I suppose," Euiwoong replies.

"We're just creative in different ways," Hyeongseop continues, "and your parents are pretty strict, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are."

"That's also something that's got to do with it. Being raised without my mom and my dad letting me do whatever I want, it's let me explore a whole lot of different things," Hyeongseop hums. "A lot of how I come up with ideas is just simply because I have no restraint." He laugh softly for a moment. "I know you admire me a lot for the art I create, but you do know that I admire you just as much, don't you?"

"How?" Euiwoong asks. "There's not much to admire about me, at least I think there isn't."

Hyeongseop shakes his head. "You're always so thoughtful and thorough with everything you do," he says. "I'm really reckless sometimes, which has gotten me in trouble before. So I admire someone who has good self-control like you. And not to mention, you're really smart. I know I don't have any classes with you, but I've spoken with Haknyeon before, and he basically claims you're a genius. That's not a lot to go off of, but I can tell when someone has a certain bright kind of intelligence just by the way they act and speak." He sighs for a moment, before continuing. "I've never been the best in school… and I've never really understood those kids that are the top of their class. Probably just like how you don't understand how art just comes so easily to me."

"Hyung…" Euiwoong begins. "You…"

"What?" Hyeongseop asks, a silly smile on his face.

"Maybe you're not good when it comes to schoolwork, but why do you always make me feel like a dumbass?"

Hyeongseop falls backwards onto the floor, breaking into a mad fit of giggles, holding his stomach as he laughs. "What do you mean?" he asks, in between breaths.

"Maybe you're not book-smart, but you're already more knowledgeable about life and people than I ever will be," Euiwoong replies, looking down at Hyeongseop, "and that's a very useful skill to have. Maybe more so than book smarts."

"Who knows?" Hyeongseop says. He sits up, and places a hand gently on Euiwoong's shoulder. "You should just never doubt yourself, Euiwoong." His thumb rubs small circles over Euiwoong's skin as they sit there, staring at each other. "That's not a good idea," he says, his voice becoming quieter as he speaks, before completely fading into silence.

Hyeongseop's eyes are large, black, bright. Euiwoong doesn't realize it, but in the several long seconds of quietness they've both leaned in just a little bit closer, until their foreheads are almost touching.

"I know," Euiwoong whispers. "Thank you, hyung."

He blinks slowly, the air around him drowsy and Hyeongseop's breath on his cheek warm.

* * *

Woojin, poking his head around the door, waves when he sees Euiwoong walking down the hallway. "Hey!" he greets, cheerfully.

"Hi," Euiwoong says, "what's up?"

"Not much," Woojin replies. "Today, you'll get to see something special!"

"Huh?" Euiwoong replies. "What do you mean?"

"You know how I sometimes take photos of Hyeongseop's art?"

"Yeah?"

Woojin grins. "Well, today, you'll get to see Hyeongseop creating that art. It's pretty cool."

"Uh…" Euiwoong begins, "won't that take a long time? Like, doesn't a drawing or painting take at least several hours to complete?"

Woojin shakes his head. "Not this time around," he says, "just wait and see, it's awesome."

"Okay." Euiwoong takes a seat on one of the stools as Woojin disappears out of the room, returning a minute later. He's got four paintbrushes in one hand, the brush heads varying in size but all relatively small. In his other hand there's three tubes of paint, all of them very little in size as well. He places them on the table next to Euiwoong, before disappearing out the door again and returning with more tubes as well as a mixing board.

Hyeongseop appears a few minutes later.

"Oh, hey," Woojin says, "I've just finished gathering all the supplies."

"Awesome," Hyeongseop replies. He sets down his backpack on the floor, before walking to the back of the room. Euiwoong watches him move. He opens one of the cupboards, and pulls out a mirror.

"Why do you need a mirror?" Euiwoong asks.

"You'll see," Hyeongseop replies, smiling.

He places the mirror on the table next to Euiwoong, before staring at the tubes of paint and brushes sitting in front of him. After a few moments, he picks up the largest brush and the green and black tubes of paint.

Euiwoong watches him curiously. Hyeongseop squeezes out a couple of dollops of paint from both tubes, before dipping in his brush and mixing them, creating a rich forest green color.

After being satisfied with his mixing, Hyeongseop scrapes off the excess paint on his brush onto the edge of the mixing board, before going back into the paint. He lifts up the brush, looking at himself closely in the mirror.

Euiwoong's heart all of a sudden starts beating very quickly, to the point where he can hear the quiet rushing of his blood in his ears. "Oh my god," he whispers, his eyes going wide.

"Huh?" Hyeongseop asks, turning to look at Euiwoong. The hand holding the brush is poised, the brush head hovering right over his jaw. "What?"

"N-Nothing," Euiwoong stutters. "Go on."

"Well, okay," Hyeongseop shrugs. He slowly draws an uneven line from the corner of his jaw to halfway across his cheek, carefully watching his own appearance in the mirror sitting in front of him as he does so.

Woojin approaches them a second later, looking down at his camera's screen. "You know, I thought Hyeongseop was a genius with regular painting on a canvas," he says, "you wouldn't believe how shocked I was when I first saw him paint on his own--" he looks up. "Oh my god, Euiwoong, your face is--"

Euiwoong quickly slaps his hand over his right cheek.

Woojin's reaction just confirmed his suspicions.

And in that moment, he all of a sudden feels dizzy, the realization hitting him harder than a bus. He quickly glances at Hyeongseop, who's still carefully painting more lines on his face.

Hyeongseop finishes drawing a line, before putting down his hand and looking at Euiwoong and Woojin, the latter clearly shocked, completely frozen as he stares at Euiwoong.

"Euiwoong, why do you have your hand over your face?" Hyeongseop asks, completely oblivious. "And what's wrong, Woojin? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Um," Woojin begins, unsure of what to say.

Euiwoong glances between the two boys. He gulps. "Hyeongseop-hyung…" he begins, slowly.

Hyeongseop tilts his head. "What?" he asks. "You don't think it's weird that I'm painting on my own face, is it?"

"No, of course not," Euiwoong shakes his head. "I'm going to take my hand off of my cheek. Please don't panic at what you see."

"Why would I panic?" Hyeongseop asks, obviously confused.

Euiwoong just takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

His arm is a bit shaky, his palm unsteady, almost shivering in its movement, as he very slowly and gingerly lets down his hand.

Hyeongseop's face morphs from confused, to utter and absolute shock, before settling on jolting realization. "W-Wait--" he stutters, "--is this real?"

"I--" Euiwoong begins, but Hyeongseop quickly grabs his brush and draws a straight line across his cheekbone.

As Hyeongseop's moving the brush across his skin, the paint that appears on his face appears at the same exact time, on the same exact place, and with the same exact opacity on Euiwoong's cheek.

"Oh my god," Hyeongseop breathes, "oh my god, Euiwoong, you're--"

"Can somebody please enlighten me on what the hell is going on?" Woojin asks, having recovered from his shock. "Why is there paint appearing on Euiwoong's face when Hyeongseop draws on himself, and why am I the only one that doesn't understand what is going on?"

Hyeongseop gulps. Euiwoong can barely hear his words over the rushing in his own head and the tapping of his heart in his chest.

"Euiwoong's my… soulmate."

* * *

"Does this change anything?" Hyeongseop asks, as he and Euiwoong stroll down the sidewalk, side by side.

Euiwoong shrugs. "Why should it?" he replies.

Hyeongseop sighs. "This means we're supposed to spend the rest of our lives with each other," he says quietly, "this means that we're supposed to be in love, doesn't it?"

"I guess," Euiwoong replies softly. He looks up at the sky, and takes in a breath of the chilly air. "Maybe it does, but I don't want to think about those things right now. Whatever our relationship is--" he glances at Hyeongseop, who's looking at him, an expression of mixed uneasiness and wonder on his face, "--it doesn't have to change unless you want it to. I've always enjoyed being your friend, hyung, and I'll continue enjoying being your friend."

"Thank you, Euiwoong," Hyeongseop replies. "I don't know what to think now."

"If you don't know what to think now, then just don't," Euiwoong advises. "I don't know anything either, but I feel like I want to ignore it, because it's too complicated."

"Yeah," Hyeongseop agrees, quietly. "This is so weird -- so rare. Who would've expected, both of us, already getting our soulmate signs at such a young age, and then being in the same country, the same region, the same city, the same  _school_ \--" he laughs.

Euiwoong smiles. "Yeah, such a coincidence," he murmurs. "When I first started getting paint on my face, I thought about all the people I knew in my life that could possibly be my soulmate. And then I told Haknyeon, but he just said there's millions of possible people out there, and that I shouldn't think too much about it. So I just settled on waiting for fate to decide when we'd meet. But I guess it already worked its job," he laughs.

"Fate is a funny thing, isn't it?" Hyeongseop replies.

"Yeah, it really is."

* * *

When they stand at the street where they're supposed to part ways, they hesitate before leaving each other's sides.

"I'll see you next week," Hyeongseop says.

"Yeah, have a nice weekend," Euiwoong replies.

But they both don't move from their places, their feet planted in their spots on the pavement.

"I--" Hyeongseop begins, and he sighs. "I can't thank you enough, Euiwoong," he says.

"Why?" Euiwoong asks.

"Just… for being so calm and collected about all of this," Hyeongseop replies. "I swear I was about to have a heart attack when I saw the paint appear on your face the same time I was drawing on my own."

Euiwoong smiles. "Oh, believe me, I was just as panicked as you were," he says.

And then Hyeongseop mutters under his breath, "Probably," before he starts smiling sillily, almost laughing as he ducks his head for a second. "What am I supposed to do now?" he asks, "Kiss you?"

Euiwoong rolls his eyes. "You don't need to," he replies. "Just do whatever you think is appropriate."

The next second, Hyeongseop leans forward, his arms coming to wrap around Euiwoong's neck, his chin coming to rest on Euiwoong's shoulder. Euiwoong returns his embrace, his arms naturally finding their way around Hyeongseop's torso.

"Thank you," Hyeongseop whispers in his ear, "for a lot of things."

Euiwoong takes a deep breath, smiling. Hyeongseop smells like the world -- if the world could have a scent. It's fresh, airy, fleeting -- much like the wind itself. Not a lot like the woody scents of nature, but the only way Euiwoong can properly describe it is the scent he'd expect the air at the top of a cliff to smell like.

Hyeongseop sighs. "I'm so glad," he begins, "I'm so glad that the person I'm going to fall in love with is the greatest person I've ever met."

* * *

Haknyeon is drinking from his water bottle when Euiwoong tells him the news.

"It's Hyeongseop-hyung."

"What's Hyeongseop?" he asks, briefly pausing his gulping.

"My soulmate."

Haknyeon chokes suddenly, leaning forward and trying his best to not spit out the water in his mouth. He coughs madly, holding his chest as his face becomes red.

"Christ," Euiwoong says, standing up and pounding on his friend's back. He sees quite a few heads turn and glance at them, but he just looks at them, scowls, and they quickly turn back to their own work.

"That was real fast," Haknyeon croaks, once he's recovered himself. "How in the world did you find out?"

"Last Friday, when I went to go see him and Woojin after school he started painting on his face," Euiwoong replies. "And then, you can probably guess what happened afterwards."

"Wow," Haknyeon says, "wow. I didn't exactly expect you to meet him before at least both of us graduated, you know. Or, not find out until then."

Euiwoong smiles. "Yeah, me neither. These things are pretty odd."

"For sure," Haknyeon replies. "You know, now that I think about it, it makes sense."

"How?" Euiwoong asks.

"Think, Woong. He's an artist, he knows how to paint, and you and him are good friends, not to mention those replies we got would fit his personality. If I were to pick anyone that fit all the criteria we had, I'd pick him." Haknyeon scrunches his nose for a second. "Wow, it makes so much sense it's scary."

Euiwoong laughs at his expression. "I guess so," he replies.

Haknyeon sighs. "So what's up now? You guys dating?"

Euiwoong pauses. "Uh…" he begins, completely unsure of what to say.

"Ah," Haknyeon murmurs, before he can reply. "Too early, isn't it?"

Euiwoong nods. "Yeah, I think for now Hyeongseop-hyung just wants to go along with the flow. Whatever happens, happens. Honestly, I feel the same way. It's just a lot to think about at the moment."

"I get you," Haknyeon says. "Don't know what I'd do if I were in your place. I guess for now--" he pauses, and then starts smiling stupidly, "--I'm just glad I no longer have to patrol you. You know, that took a lot of effort, because it's not like we have all of our afternoon classes together and I had to constantly run back and forth."

Euiwoong sticks his tongue out at his words. "Yeah, I know how painful it was, you kept on reminding me," he replies. Haknyeon punches him lightly in the shoulder. "But thanks a lot for helping me with that. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," Haknyeon says. "Glad everything's sorted out now."

Euiwoong nods, and sighs. At least, for the most part they are.

* * *

It doesn't really  _look_ like anything changes, Euiwoong thinks. He still visits Hyeongseop in the art room a few times per week after school, goes on photography excursions with him and Woojin (one day, when Haknyeon didn't have to work, he joined them too, but Woojin told him he's terribly stiff and it makes him completely unphotogenic), and occasionally pops by Hyeongseop's place to play video games and eat snack foods his parents don't allow him to keep in the apartment.

But maybe, to him, it  _feels_  like things are changing. He and Hyeongseop are still very good friends. Maybe it's just that they've become even more comfortable from the increase in time they spend with each other. Hyeongseop will come and take Euiwoong with him on trips around their city, always whenever Euiwoong texts him and tells him his home situation is either boring him out of his mind, stressing him to his wits end, or as tense as a tightrope stretched across two cliffs. He even lets Euiwoong watch him paint graffiti at different places in the area, something that Woojin says even took a long time for Hyeongseop to become comfortable enough to show him.

It becomes a habit for Hyeongseop to hug Euiwoong when they part ways after walking home together. Sometimes it's a brief embrace, but more often it's not. Euiwoong enjoys Hyeongseop's hugs, even though he's never been a particularly touchy person.

Woojin says they look great together on camera, as if they were a real couple with real experiences together and real chemistry. Euiwoong will just smile sheepishly at him, say thanks, and then mentally think to himself that it's probably because he and Hyeongseop  _do_ have chemistry, it's just that they're both stuck in that gray area where they don't know what to do, but simultaneously there's nothing they  _need_ to do.

Euiwoong still sees Hyeongseop sprinting out of campus on occasion when he looks out the window during lecture (he pointed him out to Haknyeon once, whose first comment was, "Damn, that kid runs fast.") When prompted about his actions, Hyeongseop shrugged and smiled at Euiwoong, before asking, "Where do you think I get the time to paint graffiti? That stuff takes a long time to complete." And then when Euiwoong hurriedly asked him why in the world he would skip school just to paint -- and illegally paint at that. Hyeongseop just laughed and reminded him that he has a free period. Besides, law enforcement in the city had much more pertinent things to attend to that graffiti was probably at the bottom of the list of priorities.

"Take me with you," Euiwoong says, one day, as he is watching Hyeongseop paint and has already failed trying to come up with something creative himself.

"Where?" Hyeongseop replies.

"When you go and paint graffiti right after lunch."

Hyeongseop laughs. "Uh, Euiwoong, you have class," he reminds.

Euiwoong shrugs. "I know, but it'd be nice to skip one day," he says, "and I enjoy watching you paint."

"Really?" Hyeongseop replies, "And ruin your perfect attendance score?" He starts giggling when he sees the look of uneasiness on Euiwoong's face. But he stops when Euiwoong speaks again.

"You know, what if we ran away together?"

"Like what, away from school?" Hyeongseop replies.

"No," Euiwoong says, "like, out of this city. Find a place much nicer. Together."

"Huh," Hyeongseop hums, "how'd we get the funds for that? We're broke."

"I don't know, find a way somehow," Euiwoong replies. "Me, with my book smarts, and you with your life and people skills."

"That's a very detailed plan." Hyeongseop smiles, and laughs. "If that does eventually happen, it won't for a very long time."

"I know."

"But that doesn't mean I don't fancy it." Hyeongseop sighs, putting down his brush and opening the cupboard behind him to find another tube of paint. When he returns, he says, "It'd be nice if it were just you and me. Without our responsibilities and our burdens, just each other."

"I mean, it's going to be like that one day," Euiwoong says, and a gentle smile appears on his lips.

Hyeongseop looks up, returning his smile. "One day."

* * *

It's somewhere between evening and nighttime, the street lamps already shining brightly above their heads, the sky pitch black and air freezing because it's winter. They're huddled together underneath a lamp, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the wall where they met, which is now adorned with a different one of Hyeongseop's works.

Earlier that day it had been slightly warm, an indication that the changing of seasons was nearing, so Euiwoong only brought a cotton jacket while Hyeongseop had a hoodie. But it is still very deep into winter -- the nighttime air is bitter and harsh, and the back of Euiwoong's hands and his wrists are purple. Hyeongseop holds onto them tightly, trying to pour in all of his own body heat in an attempt to prevent the goosebumps on Euiwoong's skin and the shivers of his body.

"We should really go home, I don't want you to get hypothermia," Hyeongseop says.

"Don't want to," Euiwoong replies, his voice muffled as his face is buried into Hyeongseop's shoulder.

"Euiwoong, I know your parents are angry with you, but I don't think they want to see you freeze to death," Hyeongseop says.

Euiwoong sighs. "Just a few more minutes, please."

"Okay."

"Thanks for staying out with me here."

"Of course."

Euiwoong hums, closing his eyes for a moment. But he feels the gaze of another person on him, and he lifts his head to see Hyeongseop staring intently at him.

And maybe he should've been expecting it, maybe he was caught off guard.

But those few seconds feel like they slow down into a few minutes, as he watches the reflection of himself in Hyeongseop's pupils get closer before his own eyes flutter shut automatically.

He feels the warmth of Hyeongseop's lips on his own, the action soft but simultaneously rough with the chapped texture of his lips, a byproduct of a biting winter that both of them can't escape. When he pulls back, their foreheads resting against each other, his breath is warm, steady, slow, natural, relaxed -- just like how everything should be between them.

And then when Euiwoong closes his eyes again, Hyeongseop kisses him a second time, because basically, Hyeongseop's come to realize that every time he's with Euiwoong, just the two of them, together, he falls in love all over again.

* * *

"Hey, I'm sorry things are so rough at home."

"Not your fault, you're not the one that ended up doing poorly on a midterm."

"It's not your fault either, because your definition of 'poorly' is my definition of 'there is a God, and he has blessed me.'"

Euiwoong laughs, rolling his eyes. "Thanks for taking me in," he says.

"Yeah, no problem," Hyeongseop replies, smiling. "You can sleep anywhere. On the floor, on the couch, on the dining table, or you can even share a bed with me if you want."

Euiwoong narrows his eyes. "You aren't baiting me so you can attack me in the middle of the night, right?"

Hyeongseop shakes his head, but a sly smile appears on his face. "No no, unless that's your thing and you want m--"

"Please stop talking," Euiwoong says, sternly. His lips are pressed together, his brows furrowed, a little bit uncomfortable, but Hyeongseop can clearly see that his face is bright pink even in the yellow lighting of the room.

Hyeongseop breaks into a fit of giggles. "I'm sorry, I'm just teasing," he says, wiping away a tear at the corner of his eye, "let's not think about those things for now, okay?"

"Yeah," Euiwoong replies. "But hyung, I swear if you ever--"

"Relax," Hyeongseop reassures, leaning forward and planting a kiss on Euiwoong's cheek, "I'd never hurt you." He pulls back, smiling, and laughs when he sees that Euiwoong's face is now a deeper shade of pink.

"So yeah, just sleep where you want. You don't have to decide now, there's still a few hours before bedtime."

As expected, Euiwoong is curled up at Hyeongseop's side later that night.

Euiwoong doesn't feel particularly sleepy, rather his brain is brimming with thoughts about earlier that day. How he'd come home expecting a few slaps from his mother for landing a mediocre score on a midterm but instead she flew into a rage, probably a combination from her frustration from a bad day at work and the disappointment her son carried with him back home. How he'd ended up being locked out of his own home an hour later and went to seek out the first person that came to his mind. Hyeongseop. His soulmate.

"Hyung," Euiwoong whispers, very quietly, testing the waters to see if Hyeongseop is still awake.

"Hmm?" Hyeongseop replies, a little groggily but nonetheless awake.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Hyeongseop replies, this time his voice much less drowsy.

"If soulmates didn't exist, would we still have fallen in love with each other?"

Euiwoong hears Hyeongseop smile, almost laugh, in the darkness. "What kind of a question is that?" he replies.

"I don't know," Euiwoong murmurs, "I was just thinking."

"The answer to your question is 'yes'," Hyeongseop says.

"You sound so sure," Euiwoong replies.

"Well, think about it," Hyeongseop begins, "we would've met each other anyway. Our destinies don't dictate our personalities, so we still would've become good friends. And then, I don't know how long it'd take for me to fall in love with you, but I would. You know, the fact that we're soulmates didn't even do much to change our relationship. We decided we'd just let time decide what happens, remember?"

"Yeah, that's true," Euiwoong replies. "You always have the best answers, hyung."

Hyeongseop laughs softly. "That's because I think too much about these things."

"Really? Like what?" Euiwoong asks.

"Sometimes I try to pinpoint the exact moment I fell love with you," Hyeongseop says, "and the exact moment I knew I was in love."

"When was that?"

"I don't know, because there's no exact time. Sometimes I think I began to fall for you when I first saw you. Sometimes I think it's when we held hands on top of that stone wall while Woojin took pictures. Sometimes I think it's that one time I was explaining why I like art and you called me 'amazing'. I don't even know if there's a time I just outright knew I was in love, because I never made that realization until I was far too captivated by you. The feeling… it's just always been there."

"Hyung, you hurt me," Euiwoong says.

"How?" Hyeongseop replies.

Euiwoong smiles in the darkness. "I'm sorry I can't give you any other response than 'I love you too'. I'm just not used to thinking about these things as deeply as you can, but I know that I feel the same way."

"I don't care," Hyeongseop responds, "I don't care as long as you're with me and you're happy."

Euiwoong hums contentedly, burying his face deeper into the blanket. Hyeongseop reaches up and idly begins running his fingers through Euiwoong's hair. His touch is soothing, relaxing, and Euiwoong almost falls asleep.

"Euiwoong," Hyeongseop whispers.

"Huh?" Euiwoong replies.

"Look up at my ceiling. At the stars."

Euiwoong turns his face, and stares. "You've changed the pattern of your stars," he notes.

"Yeah," Hyeongseop murmurs, "can you pick out the new shapes they make?"

Euiwoong looks back and forth across the plane of Hyeongseop's ceiling. He can see vague shapes like circles and squares, but he highly doubts that's what Hyeongseop is referring to.

"Not really," he replies, after a couple of minutes.

"Look at the largest stars," Hyeongseop says, "right in the middle of the ceiling."

Euiwoong complies. After a few seconds of following the paths of the largest stars and connecting them in his mind, he can begin to see the shape of something. It's round, with two long extensions out of--  _oh_ , he realizes. It's a rabbit.

"I see a rabbit," Euiwoong says.

"Anything next to it?" Hyeongseop replies.

Euiwoong looks to the right of the rabbit, following the trail of the largest stars again. This time, they make a thin shape, one that's squiggly and long. He can see a gathering of tiny stars extending from one end of the shape.

"Is that a snake?" Euiwoong asks.

"Yup," Hyeongseop replies. "A rabbit and a snake."

"You and I," Euiwoong realizes.

"Yep. Do you know what they say about us, on the zodiac wheel?"

"No."

"We're supposed to be very polarizing opposites," Hyeongseop begins, "but we both are people with a very beautiful core. We value the finer things in life. We can look at something raw and pure and we can truly appreciate it in that form. Distinction and creativity is what we admire. Even though we are opposites, we recognize the beauty in each other. The beauty of someone who is different from you."

Hyeongseop pauses, and sighs. "They say fate is the strongest with this pair," he begins. "They can either hate each other with all their strength, or their love can be so strong that it creates the most intense and fiery relationship out of all the possible pairs."

He shifts his position, scooting down so he is face-to-face with Euiwoong.

Hyeongseop runs his hand down Euiwoong's arm, finding his hand and lacing their fingers together tightly.

"We could've been the other way," he murmurs, "hating each other. But never in my life could I ever imagine hating you."

"Me neither," Euiwoong replies.

"Isn't it funny how fate decided to push us together? To create a pair that is supposed to have the strongest and most ardent of emotions. Out of all the other pairs that are already destined to get along well with each other."

"Well," Euiwoong begins, "fate is a very funny thing."

Hyeongseop smiles. "It definitely is," he says, "but I'm grateful it brought us together."

Hyeongseop brings up Euiwoong's hand to his lips. He kisses all of his knuckles gently, before letting down their hands, but never separating their grip.

Euiwoong's heartbeat flutters as he looks at Hyeongseop, an expression of pure and innocent appreciation and affection on the latter's face.

Yes, he is truly grateful too. More than he could ever express with words. But when he leans in and plants the softest of kisses on Hyeongseop's lips, Hyeongseop understands more than ever.

It's gratitude, but even more strongly so, it's love. A clear, raw, untainted kind of love.

* * *

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! really appreciate it. hope you liked the fic as much as i liked writing it. :)  
> as always, bless S's soul for editing my stuff. i probably waste more of her time than she does herself on video games.


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